Liberty's Truth
by Around the World
Summary: Ricky Thomas has just been paroled after serving two years, and wants to lead a normal life. However, the producer of "Liberty City Survivor" wants him to be a contestant. What Ricky doesn't know, is that he is going to fight, whether he wants to, or not.
1. Flashback

All through my life, I never fit the profile of a juvenile delinquent. I grew up in a middle class family in a decent house on Portland Island. I had a nice girlfriend, got good grades in school, had a good attendance record, and never did any drugs. But sometimes all it takes for a good person to be led astray is bad friends. I had those friends. Mike, Eric, Jimmy, and Rich.  
  
Mike was a big kid, who mostly was the muscle of our group, but was smarter than he led on. Jimmy was the big drug user, who always showed up to school with bloodshot eyes and constantly laughing at little things, so you didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that he was perpetually stoned most of the time. Eric wasn't really a bad kid. He joked around a lot, and everybody thought that he was a loser, but he really was a nice, smart guy who had a tendancy to do stupid things, not unlike me. Rich was our ringleader, he was the one who told us what to do. I was known as "Professor" because I was always getting good grades despite the bad behavior. I never got that group. We were all smart kids who were fucking up our lives by doing stupid shit. And we didn't even know why, we just did.  
  
With them, I did all the bad shit that pattern criminals do when they are kids. I shoplifted, vandalized property, smashed pumpkins on Halloween, trespassed on private land, and even stole a few cars. That's what eventually got me in trouble.  
  
One night, I decided to steal a car to make a few bucks. Jimmy had gotten us involved with the biggest car theft ring in Liberty City. They ran a big operation down by the Portland Docks, where they would hire thieves and give them a list of cars to steal, and they would bring them back to the Import/Export garage there. We had made a few thousand dollars doing this, it seemed profitable.  
  
I was in the middle of hotwiring a Bobcat in the parking lot of the Easy Credit Autos, when a cop showed up and wondered what I was doing lying on the floor of that truck, my head under the dashboard with wires hanging in my face. The next thing I knew, a bright beam was shined in my face, and I found myself in the backseat of a police car, my hands cuffed behind my back, tears slowly running down my face. It was bad luck on my part; I had just turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago.  
  
All my life, everybody told me that this was going to happen if I didn't straighten up. And it all went in one ear and out the other. Even my girlfriend Jennifer told me to get my life in order. All the people I should have listened to, I ignored. I loved to be a rebel, on the other side of the law. I pled no contest to the charge of car theft.  
  
The judge threw the book at me. Even dispite the blatant corruption of city officials, the police, even the mayor himself, I, Ricky Thomas, a lowly car thief, was given five years, the maximum for motor vehicle theft. Five years, with possiblity of parole after two years. God, my life had barely started, and now they were eager to just lock me up. Though I'm not saying that I didn't deserve it. I did a stupid thing, and faced the consequences I was handed. I also vowed I would never do anything with the teenaged GoodFellas again. I was too smart to become another Henry Hill. Hell, the little bastards even showed their true colors when I got arrested. With the exception of Eric, my "friends", never showed up for my trial, or wrote or visited me while I was in prison. It made me lose my faith in them.  
  
The prison life wasn't too bad. Since I was a first time offender, they put me in the minimum-security block of Liberty Prison. No jailhouse love for me. Jennifer visited me every week, and was glad to see me. So were my parents. I guess they could see that I was going to change, to become a good person. That's what I wanted too.  
  
After I got out, I thought I would finally get a chance to lead a normal life. Boy, was I wrong. 


	2. Give Me Liberty

1  
  
"Mr. Thomas," the parole board member said, "do you feel that your two years here in Liberty Prison has rehabiltated you?"  
  
I sat inside the cramped office room, on a cushioned folding chair that had large chunks of padding missing from it. I rested uncomfortably, watching as the three board members eyed me like hawks about to swoop down on their prey. I'm sure that wasn't their intention, but it made me nervous as hell anyway.  
  
"Yes, I do feel that I have been rehabilitated.", I answered.  
  
The head board member, a plain, middle-aged woman in a dark blue pantsuit, picked up a file lying on the table that separated us. It was conveniently marked: #130249 Thomas, Richard P. It was mine, filled with papers that told of my past, the one I had left behind. She leafed through it, looking over my various charges of defacing public property and my one car theft conviction, with a look of interest. She was probably wondering why a kid wiht A's and B's and such a nice family could let his life get screwed up like this.  
  
"Mr. Thomas, I noticed that you have criminal charges dating back to when you were fourteen, and have to take that into consideration.", she said.  
  
Somehow, I felt that I wasn't going to be paroled.  
  
"However," she continued, "I also notice that your prison record is almost perfect, which in my opinion, is a good sign of not becoming a repeat offender, and will also take this into consideration."  
  
I sighed, relieved. I had a good chance of getting out of here after all. That thought really lifted my spirits. No more stealing, no more vandalizing. Holding a job, going out with Jennifer again, having peaceful meals with my family for once, that's all I wanted in life.  
  
The voting process began. The board started to write their votes down on their official parole sheets. After what seemed to be an eternity, the board members finally began to read the votes out loud.  
  
The first vote approved my parole. Thank God, I thought.  
  
The second vote rejected it. I felt a little sunken after this. If the vote had been approved, then I would be packing my bags and walking out of here. Now everything depended on the third and final vote, which would be from the head board member herself. I tensed up. I just knew that the paper was going to read "Rejected", which wouldn't just have been the parole boards decison, but the whole world rejecting me. My breathing became harder, I even started to sweat a little. The seconds passed like hours for me. I just wanted it to be over. The head board member began to speak.  
  
Here it comes, I thought, the final revelation.  
  
"Approved.", she said.  
  
It was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. I was finally free to live a good life.  
  
2  
  
After going through the battery of physical checks in the infirmary, I called my parents. My mom answered the phone on the third ring, as she always did, it was just her meticulous nature.  
  
"Hi mom.", I said.  
  
"Ricky! It's not Sunday. Why are you calling?", she asked.  
  
"Well mom, that's the good thing.", I said, "I got paroled today!"  
  
My mom seemed to be laughing in joy. I was glad my family still cared about me.  
  
"Will!", my mom shouted, sounding distant over the phone, "Ricky got paroled!"  
  
I waited for her to come back on the phone.  
  
"Well Ricky," she said, "I'm glad you're finally getting out. Your father is happy, that's for sure."  
  
I laughed. I couldn't help it, I was getting out, after all.  
  
"Can I talk to him?", I asked.  
  
"Sure.", she said. "Will!", I heard her call for my dad.  
  
After a brief pause, my dad picked up the phone.  
  
"That's good to hear, Ricky! Your mom and I have missed you so damn much."  
  
"Thanks dad. Hey, I've been thinking about taking a job at Mean Street Taxi's when I get out. You know, driving a cab?", I said.  
  
"Well, that's good to know. I'm glad that you're finally going to turn your life around."  
  
"Yeah," I said, leaning against the wall of the phone room, "All it took was two years in prison.", I said, laughing.  
  
"When do you get out?", he asked.  
  
"Today. Jenny's going to pick me up."  
  
"Oh, good, we're really looking forward to seeing you again."  
  
"Me too, dad. See ya later. Tell mom I love her."  
  
"Bye Ricky.", he said, and hung up.  
  
I did too.  
  
3  
  
I was standing at the items claim stand, waiting to collect my personal items, when I first saw him. He was dressed in black, black jacket, black pants, black tie, even dark black sunglasses. He stood out from the crowd, a smirk on his flawless face, the smile of a predator. He was looking at me. Come to think of it, I had seen him in the parole office earlier, sitting among the prison officials. But this man obviously wasn't one of them. He didn't have the look of a man who had seen the worst of human nature, I could see this even through his sunglasses. He walked without a care in the world, the walk of a rich scumbag.  
  
I watched as he took a puff on his expensive cigarette, and blew out the smoke luxuriously. No one even mentioned to him that this was a non- smoking area, the guards didn't even look at him twice, the same guards who would have taken the cigarette from a normal man and crushed it out in front of him. He was definately a somebody.  
  
"Mr. Thomas," the woman behind the counter said.  
  
I stepped up to get my stuff, forgetting about the strange man.  
  
"Yes?", I said to her.  
  
"Could you sign for this please?", she asked me.  
  
"Sure.", I said, jotting down the necessary information.  
  
I handed it back to her.  
  
"Here are your personal effects."  
  
She put the sturdy cardboard box on the counter. I looked through it. It was exactly how I left it.  
  
A pack of Juicy Fruit gum, a Gillette razor and shaving cream, aftershave, a stainless steel Zippo lighter, and a half-pack of Salem's cigarettes. I had forgotten about the cigarettes, but I didn't want them. I had quit. I took the box, and carried it out of the hallway. I took the pack of cigarettes out of the box, looked at them distastefully, and crushed them. I tossed the mangled cigarette case into a nearby trash can, and walked away. I had been a half pack a day smoker, before I started to get my life around. I was lucky, quitting them wasn't that hard, although there were moments when I wished that I had a smoke to calm me down. Now I couldn't even smell them without getting sick. It was for the best. My parents hated that stuff anyway. I put the stuff into my tote bag and walked away.  
  
4  
  
I headed out into the parking lot of the prison, a free man. Jenny was waiting for me, her auburn hair looking absolutely in the sunlight, which fit her cute face. God, I had missed her. She ran forward, and hugged me. It felt great, something which I couldn't feel while in prison. Only memories.  
  
"Ricky," she said, "You wouldn't believe how it felt waiting two years for you to get out. I really missed you."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I could hardly wait to see you again.", I said, showing off the biggest fucking grin of my life.  
  
We let go of each other, she smiled too, forgetting my deliquency, and just embracing the fact that I was a new man, and that nothing was going to change that. I wish that had been the case.  
  
"Come on, let's get you home.", she said, brushing a few stray strands of her hair from her face.  
  
We walked across the parking lot, towards her emerald green Sentiental which she must have gotten during my incarceration.  
  
"Nice car," I said.  
  
"Thanks, I got it three months ago. It cost me an arm and a leg, but it was worth it."  
  
I threw my gym bag in the backseat, and began to get in the passenger side, when something grabbed my attention. It was that man again. He stood outside by the main gate, staring at me, his expensive sunglasses glinting in the sunlight. Even from the far end of the parking lot, I could see that he had the same wolfish grin he sported in the personal effects room.  
  
"Ricky, what's wrong?", Jenny asked me.  
  
"Nothing.", I said, and got in the car. 


End file.
